Existentialism at Hogwarts
by he war
Summary: Please review it and say what you think.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: you know that I'm not JK Rowling.

Chapter 1

Harry's POV

It is summer. Soon I will be away from this hellhole that is number four, Privet Drive. Ron invited me to stay with him at the Burrow for the remainder of the holidays. And he invited Hermione too. Hermione.. I can't seem to get her name out of my head. Her voice also stays with me, giving me advice, or every time I delay a chore or a homework assignment, its her voice in my head saying, " Don't procrastinate! Keep on working Harry, you can do it." I can't help wondering if she's changed much in the one month we've been away from school. Probably not too much; no one can change a lot during such a short space of time. But then again, me and Ron did teach her our rule-breaking ways back in first year in less than a month.

I smile, and think about my first few years at Hogwarts. Such lazy, care-free times. (well, that's not entirely true, with all that happened from years first through fifth.). But I enjoyed it all the same. Except for fifth year. That was the worst year I've ever had to live through, what with the strange dreams, Occlumency, Umbridge and the ministry, O.W.Ls, and then Sirius. I feel a stirring in my chest. I miss him. All summer I've been thinking about what I could've done to save him, or all the times I could've talked to him but I didn't. There was so much I didn't know about him, so many questions left unanswered.

But I like to think that he's alright. He's with his best friend, my father, wherever he is. Sometimes I talk to Sirius, when it's night and I'm all alone in my room. At times I can almost feel his presence around me, and sometimes I can almost hear a reply, however small it may be. It could be in the form of a dog barking happily outside, or the moon breaking through the clouds on a stormy night. It is these things that make me feel secure, but still not secure enough to accept that Sirius is gone. I try not to think about how he died, and Bellatrix.  
So here I am after all that happened to me, sitting in a tree in the park, reminiscing about old Hogwarts days. This tree is one of my favorite evening haunts. I go here every so often, just to think. Sometimes I watch the children play among the monkey bars, slides and swings; their parents nearby, eyes ever watchful.

I wish I was little again. I wish I could've had the chance to grow up with my parents. I wonder how different my life would be if Voldemort hadn't killed my parents. I would be happier, for one thing. Sirius probably wouldn't have died. I would have a completely different life, and I'd be a completely different person. Hopefully I still would've been friends with Ron and Hermione. Hermione. I can feel my face grow warm just thinking about her. I'm excited to see her at the Burrow tomorrow.

It's beginning to get dark out, so I hop off my tree-perch and start towards home. It's the Dursleys' age old rule: be home before dark. They must think I'm a nighttime mischief maker- Ha! What do they think I'm going do, make people's houses catch fire because no one's watching?

I walk quickly through the near deserted streets, thinking of Hermione and her quiet looks, her warm eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione's POV

Summer, again. I'm at Ron's house, again. Same as the year before last, and the year before that. I'm sitting in Ginny's room listening to her jabber on and on about boys and clothes and drama and MORE boys. How can she stay on this silly subject for more than an hour? It's beyond me.  
But, I'm used to it, as she's my best friend that's a girl, and the only one I can talk to about things that Harry and Ron wouldn't understand. But Ginny is such a girly girl sometimes that she makes me want to scream. I used to be able to handle it, even add the little bit of knowledge I have of such things to the conversation, but now it all just seems so…trivial. Makeup? Clothes? What will it matter in two, five, even ten years? We won't remember what Lavendar Brown wore to the ball by next year. It's pointless to discuss it.  
I've changed since last year, more than I like to think. I've felt frustrated more often, and depressed, more depressed than I've ever been. It's just because of all the thinking I've been doing over everything, and…I don't know, it's messed me up. I don't work the same way anymore. I sit down to do something and I just think, "what's the point?". I still do the work, just because I should, but it bothers me. Maybe I'm turning into one of those 'big picture people' that Dad complains about all the time.  
"Hermione? Did you hear me?" asks Ginny, leaning over to look at my face. "What?"

She smiles good-naturedly and continues folding her clean clothes. " I was just saying that Harry's getting here today."

"Really?" I say. Ginny nods.

"Yeah, he's served enough of his time over at his aunt and uncle's house this summer. And you never know, he might notice _me _this year," she says, fluttering her eyelashes. I smile in spite of myself.

" Well, it'll be good to see him again. See how he's doing," I say, thinking of his smiling face and messy hair. Ginny nods but casts me a secretive glance and fails to suppress a smile. "What is it?" I ask as she bends to put some shirts into her dresser.

"Oh, nothing," she says, grinning openly now. " Have you spoken to Harry much this summer?"

" Maybe one or two letters, not much," I reply. "Why?"

She turns her back to me to put more clothes away, and maybe to hide her face. "Let's just say he'll be happy to see you," she says, her voice on the brink of laughter.

" What do you mean?" I ask, even though I have an idea. The back of my neck feels hot, and I put my hand there to cool it.

"You'll see," says Ginny, brushing her red hair out of her face.

"Ginny…"

" You'll _see_," she says again.


	3. Chapter 3

I have to admit I'm a little embarrassed to be writing Harry Potter fan fiction. But they're good characters, so why not use them? I think it's also a bit silly too, as every possible plot has been used a hundred times over. But each one's been written differently, and that's what makes them interesting.

Chapter 3

"Hiya, Harry," says Ron, beaming at me as I stumble through the fireplace and into the living room.

"Hey," I say, seeing the familiar clock and mismatched furniture of the Burrow. I smile, feeling more at home than I ever have at Number Four. I take in Ron's appearance. He is smiling at me, and his freckles have multiplied since I last saw him. His red-orange hair is in need of a trim; his bangs are getting in his eyes. But his large ears stick out, as usual. He seems to have finally stopped growing, though his striped t-shirt is tight across his chest and his ankles show under his patched and faded blue-jeans.

"Mum!" Ron calls out into the kitchen. "Harry's here!"

Mrs. Weasley appears around the corner, wiping her hands on a bright, flowered apron. Her eyes crinkle as she smiles, happy to see me. She walks toward me, arms outspread, and envelops me in a hug. I breathe in; she smells like fresh baked bread and perfume.

"Harry, dear, how've you been?" she asks, breaking away.

"I've been better," I say with a quick smile to show her I'm okay. She smiles again, but there's skepticism in her expression. "Really though," I say. "I'm fine."

"All right, dear. Let's get your things upstairs. Ron," she turned to him, and he picked up my trunk and started walking upstairs. I followed, feeling Mrs. Weasley's gaze as I passed.

We began our ascent up the rickety stairs, and when we were out of earshot, Ron let out a sigh. He heaved the trunk up another step, then looked down at me. " She's been talking about you all summer. Wondering how you're doing, worrying about your mental state, the whole bit," he said. "It's maddening. I tell her you're fine, that you can handle yourself, but she doesn't listen."

I don't say anything, and we finish the climb in silence. I open the door to his room for him so he can lug the trunk through. He lets it fall with a loud thud that shakes the floor.

"But…you are okay though, right?" he asks tentatively.

"Yeah, I'm fine, really," I say, hoping that this isn't how the whole visit will be like; people worried about me and watching me all the time. " I'm not going to flip out like last time, don't worry," I say, cracking a grin.

Ron smiles back, looking convinced. "Hey, do you want to go see Hermione and Ginny?" he asks.

"Sure," I say. I cast a quick glance at him, and he returns it. He knows how I feel about Hermione. I mentioned it briefly in one of our letters. He knows not to say anything about it. We head down the stairs, and my stomach churns into knots. We reach the door, and Ron knocks. I hear footsteps, and Ginny opens the door.

"Harry!" she exclaims, her face lighting up as she throws her arms around me, getting her hair in my face. She steps back, a big smile on her face, her brown eyes sparkling. Ron and I step inside.

" Hey, Harry," says a voice. I turn, and there's Hermione, sitting on Ginny's bed, wearing her normal outfit of brown corduroys and a cardigan. She smiles, not showing her teeth.

"Hey, Hermione," I say, my throat dry and raspy all of a sudden. "What's up?"

She shrugs, her brown hair poofing up around her shoulders. " Nothing much. You?"

"Nothing much."

Ginny looks from her brother to me and then to Hermione. "Well anyways," she says after a moment of awkward silence, "Anyone for a game of Quidditch?"

"Sure," Ron and I say in unison. Hermione stands up. "That's fine," she says. We all head down the stairs and outside to the shed to get the brooms. I pick up my Firebolt from the kitchen as we go through it.

We all head down the big hill toward the playing area. Hermione walks ahead of me, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at the ground in front of her. I walk faster to catch up to her, and she looks up at me when I do. She smiles, then looks back at the ground.

"So…" I begin, "How've you been?"

"Okay," she replies. "Just getting ready for another school year."

"Excited?" I tease. She shrugs.

" I guess. I'm just ready for something to do," she says, surprising me.

"Excuse me, are you feeling okay?" I laugh nervously, reaching over and feeling her forehead. "Are you sick? Is this Hermione Granger I'm speaking to?"

She laughs and pulls away, and I smile, accomplished. "okay, okay, I'm excited," she says, turning to look at me, a smile on her face.

"Now that's the Hermione I know," I say. She doesn't respond.

We reach the bottom of the hill and join up with Ron and Ginny, who are already set to fly. I cast one more look at Hermione, an unrestful feel in the pit of my chest. I know something is different, and I need to find out what it is. I get on my Firebolt and fly into the air, the worried feeling weighing down my thoughts.


End file.
